Tuesday, November 20, 2007

A post with no true point

Recently my friend wrote me an email with the subject line "A woman on the edge." She expressed concern for me and wondered if her visit to our house the night before had been too much. I assured her it had little to do with her visit and more to do with not enough sleep and my undying and constant urge to be "caught up."

Some people are motivated by money. Some by power. Others enjoy a pat on the back and are motivated by the praise and thanks of others. I am motivated by a finished job. What that means: I do not feel a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction unless I FINISH something. I can start and finish a run. That feels really good. I can start and finish a book ... Like that too. Sometimes I start and finish an entire French Silk Pie. That feels less good.

Here is my issue today: I can NO LONGER start and finish cleaning. I can no longer start and finish laundry. There is no satisfaction day to day in my position here as chief executive officer of all things dirty and smelly. It won't ever be done. The minute the last load gets folded -- BAM, Noah spills sticky juice all over or Lydie spits up. More laundry. More cleaning. No satisfaction can be found in a finished job -- when in fact it cannot be finished! I am focusing all of my frustration and rage at Eve. Had she just stayed away from that ONE tree, we would all be naked and I would not be in this maddening situation. She'll hear from me personally one day.

Yesterday I went for my six week post baby checkup. I knew I was fine and thought about cancelling, but it occurred to me that leaving for a few hours with only LB would be fun. Or so I thought. First, the ladies in the lab brought up Britt leaving for school and asked how I was doing with that. We found out - not so well - in that moment anyway. I love to get together with virtual strangers who draw blood and test urine and weep with them. Good times.

After the cry-fest with the lab ladies we went to the lobby of the medical building to fill Lyd's belly with milk, which would insure us against a fussy baby on our stop into the grocery store.

As I walked aimlessly around Super Target deciding that I still don't want to look at clothes, I broke into a terrible sweat. I felt faint and totally weird. I decided I'd better grab my groceries and get the heck out. The spins got worse and I was actually wiping sweat off my face. I grabbed some beef jerky to see if eating would help. About that time Lydie started wailing. Not soft, newborn baby crying, but loud, I am so ticked off wailing. I rushed around grabbing things we needed and shoving jerky in my mouth. When I got to the counter and unloaded stuff on the belt I looked up to see that I had chosen the slowest moving Target employee of all time. Blind and with no training what-so-ever I could have rung the items faster than her.

Lydie screamed through the entire painfully slow check-out process while people all around us shook their heads and whispered. The crying was loud and persistent enough for a large handful of onlookers to begin to fidget in annoyance. One mom said to her children when they asked what was wrong with that baby, "Maybe the baby is hungry and wants to be fed." At that point I felt just about defensive enough to say, "UH- YEAH - I DID THAT!" I'm not Britney Spears. Thanks for the stellar advice though. We paid the slowest cashier in history and assured her that now was not the time to open a Target account and we sprinted to the truck so little Miss Piggy could eat. I still don't know what the deal was with the profuse sweating episode, accompanied by the spins. It was very weird.

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The plan for returning this tribe to Haiti is coming together. You can feel free to begin to pray for a unseasonably warm Minnesota New Year's Day. Troy and Phoebe leave that day, and if we're lucky the dog will go with them. American Airlines tells me I need to bring Peanut the large, needy dog and cross my fingers. They say if it is not "too cold" the dog will be allowed to go with Troy. The lady I spoke with could not tell me what exactly "too cold" would be for a Mastiff. There are rules for certain dogs, but Mastiffs were not on the list. Bringing that dog to America may prove to be one of the stupidest things we've ever done ... and that is no short list.

The second wave of Livesays will leave on the 8th, flying with that wave will be Tess and 'Dokte' Jen. After that the last of us will get Britt settled down in Waco and we'll head to Haiti from Dallas on the 14th. It feels a bit imprudent to be booking every last ticket without knowing what the deal is with the house, but the other options all stink - so imprudence won out. Your follow up question might be, 'But what if no one has rented or purchased your house - how will the payment be made?' And the answer to that would be: We'll all find out together - an adventure of sorts. Won't it be fun?

And now, in closing ... a sales pitch. Available for sale, most any household item you could ever want. Name it. Are you redecorating? We have LOTS of themed decorating items. If you want more information on either our fishing stuff OR our Ski-Lodge/warming house stuff - shoot us an email. We're also selling some furniture at excellent prices. Photos available of most items.

All proceeds will be used to pay for my pre-college move grief counseling and Peanut's ticket back to Haiti.

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Who we are...

To Reach Us: Livesayfamily@gmail.com - We live, learn, love, & work in Port au Prince, Haiti. In the 13 years we've been here, one thing we've learned: God is not made manifest in our ability to "fix" or heal, but in our need to be healed. Recognizing this weakness leaves us in a position of having little to offer. It reveals our own need to be restored. We are not fixers of people or things. We are here trying to extend love and grace to others, the way it has been extended to us.

May God bless us with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships - so that we may live deep within our hearts. May God bless us with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people - so that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace. May God bless us with tears to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war - so that we may reach out our hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. And may God bless us with enough foolishness to believe that we can make a difference in the world - so that we can do what others claim cannot be done, to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor. Amen. (Franciscan Benediction)

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